


Invited to a Wedding

by Styfas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (except for Silna's father), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Carnivale was a huge success and nobody died, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Gen, Mr. Blanky has two legs, No Scurvy to be seen, No one was injured EVER, Silna has a tongue, Sir John has two legs, They Were "Stuck In" For Only One Year - And Then They Found The Passage!, Tuunbaq? What Tuunbaq? There was no Tuunbaq
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas
Summary: Dr. Stanley has finally been invited to a wedding.  Along with all the Terrors and Erebites, he attends the wedding of Harry Goodsir and Silna. He meets up with Mr. Des Voeux, and the two have a grand time making fun of the proceedings and making silly wagers.Besides which, it's the wedding of Harry and Silna! Hooray!
Relationships: Charles Frederick Des Voeux & Dr Stephen S. Stanley, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Lady Silence | Silna
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Invited to a Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this takes into account that Harry Goodsir did ask Dr. Stanley at some point if he had ever been invited to a wedding. BUT not in the canon way, because in this AU, the Lt. Gore sledge party happened, Silna's father was shot, and once they got back to Erebus, she stayed there for the rest of the expedition. Meaning she never left, so was never kidnapped by the Terror guys, taken to Erebus, and then back to Terror. She was always on Erebus. Just because. And, yeah, in canon, Goodsir and Silna were not romantically involved, nor would they have been, IMO. 
> 
> But this is why AU fanfic exists, right? Ha!
> 
> (I'm also borrowing and incorporating some concepts from a few other of my Terror fics - because I can, and because it's fun. 🤣)
> 
> As always, I must acknowledge and thank [Drac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac), who introduced me to The Terror in the first place, who put up with my daily abuse of their Facebook messenger, help me with my silly Britglish questions, listen as I bounce my wacky ideas off of them, and support me by reading (not exactly beta reading, but "filtering" - if that makes sense) my supposed final versions of fics. 🧡 
> 
> DISCLAIMERS: I do/did not know any of the real life folks (including animal folks) of Terror and Erebus, nor do/did they ever belong to me. RIP to all. I do not own any of the characters of the AMC production of The Terror; they belong to AMC, writers, producers, actors, and anyone else who ever had anything to do with that TV programme.
> 
> Shakespeare's words belong to Shakespeare; I'm only borrowing some of them.  
> Lyrics of Verse One and Two of "Hampstead is the Place to Ruralize" belong to Watkin Williams, the composer of said song. I'm only borrowing them. 
> 
> I am not making any money from this.
> 
> Fiction, for sure.

**Invited to a Wedding**

At first glance: Ten rows of chairs, divided into two large sections, and at the end of the aisle, a white trellis adorned with blue fabric drapery, silver lace ribbons, and white roses; that’s what Dr. Stanley sees as he strolls along the grounds of the Goodsir home. There’s a string quartet playing; Schubert if he’s placing the composer’s style correctly. A piano has been placed next to the quartet. Several long tables with assorted refreshments are situated just past the area where the ceremony will take place. It’s a lovely set up, he thinks, and tastefully done.

Lieutenant Gore is the first to formally greet him. “Dr. Stanley! How the time has flown. What a pleasure to see you on this festive occasion.” 

“I was invited to this wedding, so of course I was obligated to attend.”

The lieutenant’s usual beaming smile drops. “Obligated?”

“Did you never hear the tale? I would have assumed everyone on Erebus had, and likely from the prospective bridegroom himself.”

“What tale is that?”

“Mr. Goodsir once asked me, with significant cheek, whether anyone had ever invited me to a wedding.”

“And?”

Dr. Stanley blinks. “Tell me about the seating for this event, Lieutenant.”

“I’m in charge of seating Erebites on this side. And Mr. Jopson here is seating Terrors on the left.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” Jopson says. “It’s good to see you. Lovely day for a wedding, isn’t it?”

“If one must attend a wedding, then the good weather only helps to make it tolerable.”

Dr. Stanley takes no small pleasure in seeing the dimples disappear from Jopson’s cheeks as his smile also drops. Naturally, Mr. Goodsir would have the two men with the most engaging smiles, looking like a pair of salt and pepper shakers, serving as ushers for his wedding. Dr. Stanley feels, at the very least, that a Lieutenant from Terror deserves to be ushering right along with Gore. 

Lieutenant Gore clears his throat to break the silence. “You may, of course, be seated wherever you like, Doctor. We needn’t adhere strictly to plan.”

“The Erebus side for-” Dr. Stanley senses motion behind him and slightly to his left. He turns to see that Mr. Des Voeux has just barreled in. “Ah! Mr. Des Voeux! You’ve just arrived?” 

Des Voeux offers quick salutes or nods as relevant to each man’s station. “Doctor, Lieutenant, Mr. Jopson. Yeah, thought I’d get here early for a good seat. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Lieutenant Gore’s smile returns. “Wonderful! That’s the spirit,” he says, offering a pointed sideways glance at the doctor.

“Shall we sit together, then?” Doctor Stanley asks. He knows that Des Voeux doesn’t much care for Mr. Goodsir, either – and it seems the man has managed to temporarily fool both Gore and Jopson into thinking otherwise.

“Let’s,” Des Voeux says.

“Very good,” Gore says. “The Erebus side, then? Seats close to the front? The first two rows are for family, their friends and associates, Sir John, Commander Fitzjames, and me. Would you like the third row?”

“I think the fourth row will do,” Dr. Stanley says. “Do lead on.” Once Gore is in front of them, Dr. Stanley eyes Des Voeux and gets a wicked smile in return. Splendid; he and Des Voeux will no doubt have a wonderful time mocking the proceedings in low-volume comments to each other. Thank God the man is here to get him through this.

The pair take fourth row seats at the aisle, in order to minimize the chances of any comments they may make being heard by the Goodsir family or Sir John. As for anyone else, Dr. Stanley has no concern, and he’s certain Des Voeux shares the same sentiment.

“I’m surprised this wedding is even happening,” Des Voeux says, once seated. “He’s going full out with this ruse.” 

“A ruse, you say?” 

“I’ve always thought Mr. Goodsir to be a confirmed bachelor – if you receive my meaning. I doubt he knows which is the appropriate hole for-” 

“Mr. Des Voeux, of course he does. And now, thanks to you, I struggle to keep from imagining the particulars of their coupling.”

“But they’ll have to produce at least _one_ baby, for appearances’ sake – if he can get his cock up to do the job, that is. I reckon he might be able if he closes his eyes the entire time and thinks of Jopson.” 

“Mr. Jopson?”

“Yeah. You didn’t hear the rumours?” 

“I have no interest in rumours.”

“It all started when Captain Crozier wasn’t feeling well. Two, three weeks, wasn’t it? I heard that Mr. Goodsir went over to Terror nearly every night. I can’t imagine he was going there just to visit the captain.”

“A ridiculous notion.”

“I thought so, too.”

“No, I meant that anyone would think of Mr. Goodsir and Mr. Jopson-”

“Apparently he was seen with Jopson, and more than once.”

“Who said this? It would have had to be someone from Terror.”

“Well, I heard from someone who heard from someone else, who heard it from-“

“Precisely my point,” Dr.Stanley says. “I think that, while on the expedition, many of the men shared a pastime of fabricating such lurid stories for their own amusement.“

“But I also heard-”

“If nothing was proven, then it wasn’t so.” 

“Makes sense to me, though. Come now, did anyone ever see Mr. Goodsir with Lady Silence after she showed up on Erebus? I mean, _with_ her?” He raises his eyebrows. 

“I wasn’t aware, nor had I ever the slightest interest in knowing how Mr. Goodsir occupied his time when away from the sick bay.”

“Three years, though. The expedition, and the Sandwich Islands? Ports after? And did anyone ever see them holding hands? No. Hugging? Kissing? No. Did anyone ever see – or _hear_ them… you know…”

“Perhaps they had somehow perfected the art of being discreet. Or they had decided to wait until-”

“ _Three_ _years_ , Doctor?” 

“And if what you say is true, then why would she come back with him to England?” 

“Mr. Goodsir made her his ‘project.’ Maybe they’re friends, but beyond that, he convinced her to come to England because he needs her for _appearances._ And in return, because she has no family, he promised to provide for her. Just… not in the bedroom.”

“I can’t imagine Mr. Goodsir forcing anyone to make that kind of decision. It’s not in him. He could barely form questions of me, of any type, without being either apologetic or frantic. You misjudge him, Mr. Des Voeux. Remember, he and I worked together for years.” 

“Hmm… I wonder if his family know?”

“Do you know how absurd you sound?”

Des Voeux folds his arms across his chest. “Just saying.” The pair are silent for a minute until a slow smile spreads across Des Voeux’s face. He shifts his weight to face the doctor. ”I suggest a gentleman’s wager,” he says. “When do you think he’s going to cry? Because we both know he will.”

“Undoubtedly. But I think we may need to define ‘cry’ before I decide. If you mean the single poetic tear running down the cheek, then my vote is for when he comes down the aisle only minutes from now.”

“No, I mean really _cry,_ to the point that he’ll need to wipe his eyes or cheeks – and maybe it’ll get so bad that he’ll get all choked up and need to take a moment to collect himself.”

“In that case, I say he’ll never get through his portion of the vows.”

“I disagree. But the rings? That’s a different matter.”

“You must be more specific, Mr. Des Voeux. His putting the ring on her, or vice-versa?”

“He’ll break down when he puts the ring on her. That’s when he’ll know there’s no turning back from this masquerade. Mark my words.”

“We shall see.”

The two spend the next few minutes discussing aspects of the venue, decorations, and music. Des Voeux finds the trellis that has been erected at the front of the aisle to be overwrought and unnecessary, while Dr. Stanley finds it lovely, if a bit twee. While Dr. Stanley finds the sedate string quartet music to be appropriate, Des Voeux would rather hear something vigorous and raw. They both wonder why a piano has been brought out to the grounds, as no one has played it yet. Dr. Stanley surmises it may be for the ceremony, likely during a reading or the signing of the register. Both agree that the grounds are lovely, with their well-trimmed lawn and hedges, flower gardens, multiple shade trees, and various stone pathways. Des Voeux points out the long tables which Dr. Stanley had previously noticed on his arrival, presumably for some sort of after-party, although their invitations had indicated a more formal reception and dinner to take place at a grand hotel in mid-afternoon. 

“I suppose we’re to remain and mingle here before we consider attending the reception,” Dr. Stanley says. “It’s going to be a long day.”

“If there are drinks, I’m happy,” Des Voeux remarks.

“Fortunately, there are plenty of the men I’ll be pleased to visit, the origins and circumstances that brought about this obligatory occasion notwithstanding.”

“Imagine; a wedding, one year later, being our first reunion after the expedition.”

“Mr. Goodsir may be many things, but he is no fool. Obviously, he planned it this way, in order to ensure a favorable atmosphere for his event.”

The men from both ships are now arriving a steady stream: ships’ boys, able seamen, petty officers, warrant officers, officers, Royal Marines, and others. There’s an electricity in the air as shipmates salute each other, shake hands, and laugh together. 

Finally, Sir John arrives. Everyone stands and salutes. He waves and nods, then walks regally down the aisle without an usher, accompanied by the crowd’s roaring ocean of cheers and waves of applause, clearly reveling in the attention he so richly deserves. 

“It was a remarkable expedition,” Dr. Stanley says. “A triumph for Sir John it was, having found the Passage.”

“He’s gained weight,” Des Voeux says. “See those creases in his coat where the buttons are pulling? I’m surprised those buttons haven’t popped yet.”

“We’ve all changed to some degree,” Dr. Stanley says. “Some more than others. Private Heather seems to have lost some weight. And did you happen to notice that both George Chambers and David Young are attempting to grow beards?” He laughs at the improbability of it.

“And Commander Fitzjames with that strange new caterpillar of a moustache,” Des Voeux says. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Dr. Stanley hears the men’s voices fading to a low murmur. He checks over his shoulder and sees that people in civilian dress are now being led up the aisle by Lieutenant Gore. “Ah, the Goodsir family,” he says to Des Voeux.

“This is it,” Des Voeux says. "The wedding should be starting any minute now.”

“Good. The sooner it begins, the sooner it will come to an end.”

With many others having noticed that the family are walking up the aisle, those who had been standing are now shuffling about and finding their seats. The loud talk fades away to an expectant hush as the family are seated.

“Have you seen Captain Crozier yet?” Des Voeux asks.

“I can’t image what could be keeping him. He, of all people, would want to be here.”

Des Voeux looks over his shoulder, then tilts his head to indicate the back of the aisle. “There he is. That explains it.”

All Terrors and Erebites rise to salute the smiling Captain Crozier as he walks up the aisle. Lieutenant Gore and Mr. Jopson follow at a respectful distance. When the captain reaches the area in front of the trellis, he turns to face the assembly. Lieutenant Gore stations himself at the end of the second row on the Erebus side, while Mr. Jopson stands at the end of the first row of the Terror side.

The captain makes a grand motion for the crowd to sit, then smaller gestures to each side. Dr. McDonald walks forward from the Terror side to join the captain near the trellis, while a man in civilian dress assumes a position at the opposite side of the trellis.

“Good morning,” the captain says.

There’s a soft muttering of return greetings from the crowd.

“I know you can make more noise than that! _Good morning!”_

A rousing echo of “Good morning!” comes from the crowd, followed by laughter.

“Welcome to the Goodsir family and their friends, and to all from Terror and Erebus. We are all here, on this beautiful spring day, to celebrate the love of Silna and Harry, and to be witnesses as they join in marriage. They are honoured that you have come to share this day with them. I am equally honoured that they have asked me to officiate. Harry’s older brother, Dr. John Goodsir, is his best man. Dr. McDonald will serve as interpreter, from English to Inuktitut for Silna, when needed, and from Inuktitut to English, as we may need.”

“Just what we need: translations,” Des Voeux says, rolling his eyes.

“To prolong the agony,” Dr. Stanley adds.

“This is an event that has been years in the making,” the captain continues, “and I know that there are many of you who sensed early on, as did I, that it was destined to be! So, are we all ready to see these two _finally_ get married?”

“If we must,” Dr. Stanley whispers to his companion. Around him, there are nods, and several soft answers of “Yes.”

“Come, you can do better than that!” Captain Crozier says. “ _Let them hear it! Are you ready for this wedding?”_

Immediately there’s a thunderous chorus of cheers and whooping; the voices of Mr. Blanky, Seaman Morfin, and Commander Fitzjames standing out from the others.

“Good! Now, I invite you all to rise as we welcome Silna and Harry.”

The string quartet begins to play, and everyone stands up and turns to greet the couple. There are myriad “Oohs,” “Ahs,” and gasps, in combination with spontaneous discussions and soft laughs of disbelief, with many of the men touching their own cheeks and nudging their neighbors.

“Christ,” Des Voeux says. “He shaved off the mutton chops!”

That, combined with the shock of seeing Silna in a corseted dress, renders Dr. Stanley speechless – but only for a few seconds. “A definite improvement – for both of them,” he says. 

He has to admit that they are a striking couple. Usually, one thinks of the bride as glowing on her wedding day – but today, it’s Mr. Goodsir, more than Silna. He’s looking dapper, indeed, in a slate blue morning coat and dove grey trousers. His black shoes are impeccably polished. His shawl-collared waistcoat is in white satin with matching buttons, and features intricate silver embroidery in a tapestry pattern. He wears a high-collared white shirt and an ice-blue puff tie with a white pearl tie tac. He sports a white rose flower favor in his lapel, and white gloves. His hair has grown out a bit into thick, organized curls, and his face is perfectly smooth, with just a hint of sideburns. Uncommonly handsome this morning, he is.

It’s evident that the couple have planned well in coordinating their attire for the occasion. Mr. Goodsir’s puff tie matches the icy blue of Silna’s satin dress. The silver lace trim of her dress matches the metallic silver embroidery of his waistcoat. Silna’s dress has a subtle sloping neckline which displays a hint of shoulder, yet still manages to convey modesty. The sleeves’ fabric goes down to her elbows, with three ruffled tiers of silver lace gracing her forearms, which are covered with white gloves. Her skirt is in three tiers, with silver lace edging on the hem of each tier. Pale blue slippers peek out from under her skirt’s hem. Her shining, ebony hair is styled up and away from her face, parted in the center, with a row of small, white tea rose buds tucked into symmetrical side braids. She carries a matching bouquet of larger white roses, bound with silver lace.

“My God, she actually has a _shape_ ,” Des Voeux says.

Dr. Stanley hears himself say aloud, “She’s not entirely unattractive.”

“Mr. Goodsir looks confident enough, considering what he’s about to do.”

“No, look at his eyes. He may be smiling, but he’s full of panic.”

“He ought to be, marrying an Eski. I’m still trying to imagine what the baby will look like.”

To the strains of string quartet music, bride and bridegroom slowly walk up the aisle together, he on her right, their arms gently linked. They occasionally smile and nod at the guests as the pass each row, then smile at each other. As Mr. Goodsir passes by Dr. Stanley, he raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Thank you for being here, Doctor.”

“Did you hear that?” the doctor says to Des Voeux after Harry has passed by. “Rub my face in it, will he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you remember when he asked me if anyone had ever invited me to a wedding? You were there, Mr. Des Voeux. You and Lieutenant Le Vesconte, in the sick bay.”

“Yes, you’ve reminded me of it more than once over the years. But I doubt he was being cheeky just now. Don’t give it another thought. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“I think I know why you’ve been holding a grudge about that. You _hadn’t_ ever been invited to a wedding. Is that it?”

“How very astute of you. I’ve been bridegroom at two weddings of my own. But yes, this is the first wedding to which I’ve been invited by another.”

Des Voeux smiles. “Another wager, then. When do you think _you’ll_ cry?”

“I will not.”

“And I say you will. That’s the wager. You’ll shed a tear sometime today. Maybe not at the wedding itself, but sometime today.”

“If it amuses you to think so. But you’re wasting your time in considering it.”

The couple reach the front of the aisle. Silna hands off her bouquet to Mr. Jopson. 

Des Voeux snickers. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Poor Mr. Jopson. This must be killing him.”

“Please be seated,” Captain Crozier says to the assembly.

Mr. Goodsir and Silna join hands and face each other. Dr. McDonald stands beside Silna, ready to translate for her.

The captain speaks. “Today, in the presence of family, friends, and former shipmates, Silna and Harry will pledge their love and lifetime commitment to each other. 

“I first knew that these two were destined to be together the day Harry came to the Great Cabin to ask me what turned out to be a very important and life-changing question. He told me he needed a phrase for his dictionary. And do you know what that phrase was? He asked me how to say ’I love you’ in Inuktitut. But I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t wanting that phrase just for his dictionary. It was plain to me that he intended to say it to Silna. Through no small amount of cajoling on my part, Harry admitted it – and rather excitedly, in fact. 

“As for Silna, I saw a change in her the day after Harry got the answer to that question he had asked. There was a different sparkle in her eyes, a new glow to her cheeks, and something more in her usually subtle smile. I knew it had to be because Harry had said to her that new word he had learned – and that she approved.

“I also know that he taught her how to say it in English translation. Only Silna and Harry know when she said it to him for the first time, and how often she has said it since. But I did hear her say it to him not ten minutes ago, while we were preparing to walk the stone path to greet you all.

“Silna and Harry, may this ceremony serve as a symbol of the promises that you will make to one another today. From this day forward, whatever challenges you may face, you will now face them together. No matter how you succeed, you will succeed together.

“And now, Harry has requested that Mr. Bridgens do a reading for us.” He gestures to Bridgens, who makes his way to the ceremony area.

“Sonnet 116, by William Shakespeare,” Mr. Bridgens announces. 

_“Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds._

_Or bends…”_

Dr. Stanley comments while Bridgens reads. “Shakespeare. Predictable.” He sighs and endures. Thankfully, sonnets are short, at only fourteen lines, no matter the author.

When it’s over, Mr. Bridgens returns to his seat, and Crozier assumes leadership once again. He speaks with frequent pauses, while Dr. McDonald acts as before, translating for Silna’s benefit.

“Silna and Harry, marriage is a bold step into an unknown future. It is risking who you are for the sake of who you can be. It is a promise between two people who love each other, who trust that love, who honor one another as individuals in that togetherness, and who wish to spend the rest of their lives together.

“Always remember that It takes more than love to make your marriage work. It takes trust, to know in your hearts that you want only the best for each other. It takes dedication, the ability to stay open to one another, to learn and grow, even when it is difficult to do so. And it takes faith, to go forward together without knowing what the future holds for you both.

“You will have wonderful times ahead, and you will have difficult times ahead. But the love and commitment you share will see you through it all. You show care and compassion, you trust one another, and most importantly, you are each other’s best friend. I have no doubt that your marriage will be an example for others to follow.

“And so, I now ask you: Harry, do you take Silna to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“And Silna, do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” she says in English, echoing her soon-to-be husband.

Dr. Stanley leans sideways to Des Voeux. “Already Mr. Goodsir’s fighting back tears, look how fast he’s blinking his eyes.” 

Captain Crozier proceeds. “Silna and Harry have written their own vows, and now we shall hear them. Harry will speak first.”

Harry takes a folded paper from his coat pocket and clears his throat.

Dr. Stanley tilts his head towards his companion. “Did you see his fingers trembling? He could barely get that paper out of his pocket. I’m about to win the wager, Mr. Des Voeux. You watch.”

“No, he’s just nervous about keeping up the charade,” Des Voeux says. “All this pretence is getting to him.” 

After successfully opening his paper, Harry smiles at Silna and then reads. “Silna, when the expedition set sail from Greenhithe five years ago-”

“Speak up, please, Mr. Goodsir!” It’s Tom Hartnell, calling out from the back of the Terror side of the assembly. “We can’t hear you!” 

Harry nods. His self-conscious laugh can probably be heard only in the first four rows. “Is this better?” he asks, testing his voice at a higher volume.

Both sides sound their approval.

Harry begins anew, his voice sounding strong and confident. “Silna, when the expedition set sail from Greenhithe four years ago, Sir John told us that we had all signed on for the adventure of a lifetime. It was exactly that, not only because we found the Passage, but because you and I found each other. The way we fell in love was far from traditional, and there were times I feared it was too good to be true. Well, here we are today. It’s true.”

He allows himself a soft laugh, and there’s a ripple of laughter in response from the crowd.

“Although I can’t determine the exact moment when I knew I was in love with you, I do know that I felt from the start as if I’d always known you – as if we had met before, in another world, perhaps. I’d heard of that rare phenomenon happening with others. But with you, I experienced it for myself.”

He pauses to swallow, sigh, and flip his paper over.

“Aha, this is it,” Dr. Stanley says. “The tears will come now.” But it turns out he’s wrong. Harry continues reading in English, still pausing periodically to allow Dr. McDonald to translate into Inuktitut for Silna. 

“Silna, you enchant me. You are more precious to me today than yesterday, and I will cherish you even more tomorrow, and every day thereafter. I admire your calm strength, your courage, and your honesty. You inspire and challenge me every day. You’ve taught me, and you continue to teach me, to be stronger, more patient, and more understanding. I promise I will continue to learn from you, and to grow with you. Through joy and sorrow, laughter, and tears, I vow to walk beside you as your friend, your constant companion, and faithful partner, wherever the adventure of _our_ lifetime together may lead. I promise to do all that I can to be worthy of your love, every single day, until death shall part us. Nagligivavit, Silna. I love you.” 

“He made it through,” Des Voeux says. “You lose.”

A sudden and pronounced sobbing comes from the front row of the Erebus side.

“It sounds like Sir John,” Des Voeux says.

Another loud sob.

“ _Definitely_ Sir John,” Dr. Stanley says. “How embarrassing.”

Captain Crozier speaks. “Silna will now say her prepared vows, in Inuktitut.”

Silna turns to her right to receive a paper from Mr. Jopson. She reads in a barely audible voice while Dr. McDonald translates her words for the assembly: 

“Harry, I cannot pretend that our first meeting was a happy one. But when I first saw you, I knew the man you were, and the man you are. I knew that I could trust you and believe you. Since that day we met, I have never stopped trusting you or believing you. My respect for you continues to grow, every day. 

“Falling in love with you was easy, and it happened quickly. I didn’t tell you at first, but you knew. I could see it in your eyes. And I knew you loved me, too, even before you told me. You know how it is with us, Harry. We’ve had a connection from the very beginning, an understanding that doesn’t always require us to say words, because we know what the other is thinking and feeling. 

“How could I _not_ fall in love with you, Harry? You’re gentle, charming, and compassionate. Because of you I smile more, and I laugh every day. You’ve taught me how to trust others, and how to be confident and strong, even when I’m afraid to do so. You’ve been my friend and my protector, and you’ve always made me feel special. 

“I’m looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together, and to sharing our hopes and dreams. I promise to love, honour, and respect you every day. I will laugh with you when you are happy, support you when you are sad, and guide you when you ask for help. I promise to learn and grow with you, and to love you, every day and always, in this world, and in the next.”

Silna folds her paper and hands it back to Mr. Jopson, who dutifully takes it and sits down.

“He’s still holding up remarkably well,” Dr. Stanley whispers to Des Voeux. “Astounding.”

Captain Crozier speaks. “Silna and Harry will now-“

“Wait. I have more to say.” It’s Silna, speaking in English, and in a surprisingly projected voice, for which no one in the crowd requests that she speak louder.

“So much for ‘Lady Silence,’” Des Voeux says. “She‘s got quite the voice on her. I’m guessing this is where she changes her mind about marrying him, and tells him so, in front of everyone.”

“Nonsense. Not after those vows.”

Silna makes brief eye contact with the crowd. “Everyone, listen. This for all who need to hear it. It’s important.” She turns her attention back to the bridegroom, who seems as surprised about this turn of events as everyone else. She takes his hands in hers and looks into his eyes. “Harry, listen to me. I know you are happy today. But I also know that you worry. You still sometimes feel guilty and sad because I left my home to be with you. Today, I'm asking you to _stop_. _Do not worry._ No more guilt. No more sadness. I made my choice, Harry – and I chose _you_. I will always want to be with you, wherever you are. When I am with you, I am home. _You_ are my home. Nagligivavit. I love you.”

Whether it’s the words she spoke, or because she spoke in English for all to hear, although it may well be a combination of the two, Harry has lowered his head and brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes. 

Which sets Sir John to sobbing again, while others in the crowd join in with soft sniffles.

All of which sets Des Voeux to rolling his eyes Heavenwards. “I hear there may be auditions at the Haymarket next month.”

“So, we’ve both lost the wager,” Dr. Stanley whispers. “But here come the tears, at long last.”

Harry reaches into a front waistcoat pocket and produces a folded ice-blue handkerchief, which he uses to dab his eyes. With that accomplished, he addresses the attendees, still holding the handkerchief in his hand. “I brought this for Silna. I thought she might need it.” He chuckles. “I thought wrong.” He dabs his eyes again, stuffs the handkerchief back into his pocket, and nods to Captain Crozier.

Captain Crozier lightens the mood further. “We are all witnesses,” he announces, pointing with an outstretched arm and scanning it across the attendees, from Erebites to Terrors. “Let no one here allow Harry to utter any words of guilt over this matter of Silna coming to England with him, _ever again!”_

Amidst gentle waves of laughter from the attendees, several men shout _“Yes, Sir,”_ the loudest among them being Tom Hartnell, Lieutenant Little, and Sergeant Tozer.

The captain continues with his scripted words. “Silna and Harry will not be exchanging rings today. Instead, they offer other gifts as symbols of their love and commitment to each other. Dr. Goodsir, please,” he says, nodding to his left. 

John Goodsir reaches into his pocket and hands a small jewelry box to his brother, then withdraws a few steps.

Harry opens the box and shows Silna what’s inside.

“A heart,” she says, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “A necklace.”

“May I?”

She nods.

Harry carefully lifts the necklace from its box and hands the box back to his brother. He steps forward to his beloved, puts the necklace around her neck and closes the clasp, saying, “Silna, accept this heart as a symbol of my undying love and commitment to you.”

Silna fingers the gold pendant and smiles, then looks to Mr. Jopson, who approaches her. She takes something from him, as of yet undetermined by Dr. Stanley, in one hand, and closes her other hand on top of it. She faces Harry, smiles, and speaks again in English. “Harry, accept _this_ heart as a symbol of my love for you.” She opens her hands.

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“ _Mr. Goodsir,_ _speak up_ , _will you?”_ shouts Cornelius Hickey from the Terror side.

“I told Silna that it’s beautiful,” Harry says, projecting his voice. “And I had no idea what she was going to give me today.” He carefully takes the gift from Silna’s hands and holds it up for all to see. “Look! It’s a heart, carved in stone. She carved it herself. And she etched our names on it. In Inuktitut!"

“A paperweight. Charming,” Dr. Stanley says in a flatline.

“It certainly doesn’t take much to impress him,” Des Voeux says.

Harry slips the heart into his inside coat pocket and pats his chest with his right hand. “Close to my heart,” he says to Silna. “Nakurmiik.”

“That’s _Thank you_ ,” Dr. McDonald translates for the wedding guests.

“As if that weren’t plain,” Dr. Stanley mutters. 

Captain Crozer takes charge again. “While Silna and Harry sign the register, Commander Fitzjames will recite a poem that he has written as a gift to the couple, and specifically for this occasion, in which he will tell the story of Silna and Harry, and of their love. Lieutenant Hodgson will accompany his verses at the piano.”

Commander Fitzjames strides with aplomb to the trellis while Captain Crozier, Dr. John Goodsir, Harry, and Silna head toward the signing table and chairs, which are situated near the Erebus side of the ceremony area. 

Lieutenant Hodgson rises from his chair in the Terror section and stands in place. “Yes… I shall be playing a _Klavierstücke_ – a piece for piano – in C Major, by Franz Schubert. It was composed in 1816 and published in 1843, fifteen years after his death.” 

“No one asked,” Des Voeux says loudly enough so that heads turn in the row directly in front of him. Dr. Stanley delivers a sharp elbow jab to his ribs.

“You’d best get to it, Lieutenant,” Crozier says. “As you can see, Commander Fitzjames is ready to begin.”

The commander takes out several pieces of paper from his coat pocket and unfurls them with a flourish. He waits for the Lieutenant with his jaw set firm, and his tongue thrust against the inside of one cheek. Lieutenant Hodgson shuffles a pile of papers in his hands while awkwardly sidestepping his way through the second row to get to the side aisle. Once there, he rushes to the piano and sits on the bench. It could be that only thirty seconds transpire, but it seems like minutes as he distributes the pages of music across the music rack, then adjusts the bench forward and back a few times. Even at four rows back, Dr, Stanley and Des Voeux can hear the loud, exasperated outpouring of breath coming from between Commander Fitzjames’ barely parted lips. Hodgson rubs his hands together, presumably ready to begin – until his eyes widen - and in a flurry, he adjusts the order of his pages, exchanging the first page with the last. Finally, he appears to be ready, as evidenced by the nod he gives to Commander Fitzjames. 

Fitzjames speaks in a sturdy, ringing voice. “ _A Warm Love, Forged in a Cold Clime: A Poem Written for the Marriage of Silna, Formerly Known as Lady Silence, to Henry Duncan Spens Goodsir, Concerning Their Meeting and the Blossoming of Their Love, Which Has Led to This Joyous Day.”_

Des Voeux groans. “Oh, Christ.”

“If the length of that horribly composed title is any indication, then the poem itself may keep us here until sunset,” Dr. Stanley says. “I like the man, I _do._ We’ve sailed together in the past. But… _this?”_

Lieutenant Hodgson begins his Klavierstücke. This is not one of Schubert’s better compositions, Dr. Stanley thinks, even though the lieutenant plays it quite well, with rich tone and excellent phrasing. Then again, it could be that this musical selection is being significantly diminished by the commander’s terrible poetry. 

_“‘The ever-humble anatomist is one of our protagonists?_ ’ That rhyme isn’t even close,” Des Voeux says.

 _“’’Twas a lovely Netsilik girl who did set his heart a-whirl?‘”_ Dr. Stanley lowers his head, bringing a palm to his face. 

The pair listen, grimacing and groaning. This isn’t a mere recitation; it’s terribly loud and melodramatic, as if Commander Fitzjames were delivering a grand proclamation in the Town Square.

“Oh, dear,” Dr. Stanley says. “And now he dares to tell the story about Lieutenant Gore’s sledge party. The girl’s father was shot during that mission, for God’s sake. Why mention it?”

“Because he must. ‘ _Concerning Their Meeting,_ ’ after all.” Des Voeux says. “And did you hear that? He just rhymed _Lady Silence_ with _violence!_ Even Mr. Goodsir doesn’t seem to be enjoying this. See how he’s looking sideways at Commander Fitzjames?”

“I do feel sorry for him, having to pretend to enjoy this distasteful abomination of the English language.” Dr. Stanley shrinks down in his seat. “Wake me when this is over, will you?”

A few minutes later, Dr. Stanley feels a hand clapping against his arm. He raises his head. “What is it?”

Des Voeux snickers. “Look. Hodgson.”

Dr. Stanley takes Des Voeux’s suggestion. The lieutenant is now shedding tears of his own. They roll down past his cheeks, yet he plays on without missing a beat. “But is he crying because he’s overcome with emotion for the couple, impressed with his own talents, or because the poem is so dreadful?” Dr. Stanley asks.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Look, they’ve all finished signing the register, and still the commander is rambling on.”

Finally, Commander Fitzjames finishes his poem and folds his papers with obvious self-satisfaction. Amidst polite applause, Sir John bellows, “Bravo, James! Bravo!” The commander takes a deep bow and returns to his seat.

Lieutenant Hodgson remains on his piano bench, looking downward, his shoulders slumped. 

“Oh, and well done, Lieutenant,” Sir John says, with markedly less enthusiasm.

With an imitation of a smile, Hodgson collects his music, rises from the bench, and quietly heads back to his seat in the Terror section while Captain Crozier, Dr. John Goodsir, Silna, and Harry return to their former positions by the trellis. 

Captain Crozier speaks. “Silna and Harry, before the people who have assembled here this day, and in as much as you have each pledged to the other your lifelong commitment, love, and devotion, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now embrace each other.”

 _“Embrace?”_ Dr. Stanley whispers to his companion. “What, no kiss?"

The couple smile at each other for a few seconds. Harry nods, moves forward, and slips his arms around her in a gentle embrace. She reciprocates, resting her hands demurely at his waist.

The crowd applauds, but what they’ve seen still isn’t enough for most. It’s the ships’ boys of Erebus who start up the insistent chant: _“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”_ They are joined by the ships’ boys of Terror, and then all of the Royal Marines, who are followed by seamen, petty officers, and a few of the officers. Soon there’s a steady clapping and then a stomping of feet to match the rhythm of the chanting.

“Animals,” Dr. Stanley says, lifting his gaze to the skies. 

Harry and Silna exchange words unheard by anyone but themselves. Harry then backs away a few steps from her and raises one hand to silence the crowd. “Silna’s a trifle shy. She says… ‘later.’ We had spoken to Captain Crozier before the ceremony about this, and it’s why he said we should embrace.” 

There are several disappointed groans, mostly from the younger shipmates. The ships’ boys are apparently refusing to accept defeat, with David Young, in his nasal tenor, initiating the _“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”_ chant once again, and with Evans, Golding, and Chambers joining in right behind him. As before, others join in and clap along to the chant.

Harry shrugs, then smiles at his bride. He talks to her, and she shakes her head _No._ He gently takes her hands and talks to her again, seemingly in negotiation, nodding to her and then indicating the crowd with a tilt of his head. 

Finally, a tiny nod from Silna.

Harry raises his hand again and waits for silence before speaking to the assembled guests. “We’ve just discussed it again, and Silna has graciously consented to this much.” He leans forward and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek. As soon as it’s done, she shyly turns her face away from the crowd. This seems to appease them all, as the applause and multiple “Awws” would suggest.

And above it all, Sir John can be heard sobbing yet again.

“See? I told you, she’s only a friend,” Des Voeux says. “If she doesn’t want to kiss him on the mouth, then that says it all, as far as I’m concerned. _‘Shy,_ ’ my arse. _‘Later,_ ’ my arse. This marriage is only for appearances.”

Dr. Stanley shakes his head and gives up; there’s no use trying to argue with Des Voeux anymore.

Captain Crozier makes some announcements. “The newlyweds will be leaving briefly for a daguerreotype session, and they’ll be rejoining us shortly. In the meantime, you are invited to go the tables to the left of the Terror side, where drinks and light fare will be served. Are we all ready to celebrate?”

A unison _“Yes!”_ rings through the grounds.

“Everyone, please rise! It is now my distinct honour and privilege to present to you all, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Goodsir!”

Fitzjames launches a cheer: “Hip, hip…”

_“Hooray!”_

“Hip, hip…”

_“Hooray!”_

“Hip, hip…”

_“Hooray!”_

Dr. Stanley turns to his companion. “And Hooray to _us_ , Mr. Des Voeux, for having survived this ceremony.”

“Drinks. He said there’d be drinks. I could certainly use one now.”

Husband and wife walk back down the aisle to the sounds of a string quartet recessional and a round of applause from the attendees. Dr. Stanley has never seen Harry smile so wide. Silna has a dazzling smile to match. For all the discord, disagreements, and misunderstandings he and Harry had experienced over the years, Dr. Stanley finds it difficult to deny that he feels happy for the man. Or, he considers, it could just be that the lively Schubert quartet, with its bubbling rhythms, has caused a peculiar surge of energy in him. 

The crowd is slow to move, but within a few minutes, Dr. Stanley and Mr. Des Voeux are able to make their way to the tables to get drinks and to socialize with men they haven’t seen since the end of the expedition. There is also a receiving line of sorts. Both Captain Crozier and Dr. McDonald are humbly accepting compliments for their work in officiating and translating, respectively. In contrast, Commander Fitzjames appears to be holding court, immodestly receiving accolades for his contribution to the ceremony. And then there’s Lieutenant Hodgson at the end of the line, shaking hands and awkwardly accepting words of praise from those who didn’t leave the line early to get their refreshments directly after visiting the commander. 

Dr. Stanley figures he should put a good foot forward and introduce himself to the Goodsir family. They all seem congenial enough, and he’s told by both Harry’s brother, John, and his father that they learned so much about him through Harry’s letters. They don’t elaborate on what they’ve learned, however - nor does he ask. “So much” could mean anything; Harry’s letters could have been filled with praise, or unfounded criticisms and petty insults, for all he knows. He wants to make sure to say favourable things about Harry, although he must think hard to come up with what those might be. Off the top of his head, he’s able to say, truthfully, that Harry always had a good work ethic, was enthusiastic, and always willing to learn. Dr. Stanley is confident that his remarks should help to cancel out any pre-conceived negativity that the family may have had toward him.

The stress of conversing with the family considerably drains him of energy. A stroll could be invigorating, he thinks. He manages to find Des Voeux to inform him of his decision of his need to get away from the oppressive dynamic of the crowd for a while. Des Voeux is happy where he is, with drink in hand, and they agree to meet up when the newlyweds return so they can have more fun together. The doctor weaves his way through the masses and escapes to more open lawn space.

He begins by going beyond the wedding ceremony area. It feels good to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. He passes by several lovely flower beds, an herb garden, and a vegetable garden. When he sees a white gazebo and benches past the gardens, Dr. Stanley thinks that the after-wedding reception could just as well have been held in this portion of the grounds. He rounds the gazebo and heads back towards the wedding seating area, where the festivities are still going on.

But where are the newlyweds? He doesn’t see them as of yet. Strange. He passes the rows of seats and walks along the stone path towards the house, presumably where the daguerreotype session would take place. Pausing to admire a series of rose bushes in pink, red, and white, he wonders whether Silna’s bouquet may have been fashioned with roses from these very bushes. He sighs and thinks back to his wedding day, only nine days before the expedition set sail. Mary Ann’s bridal bouquet, like Silna’s, was of white roses.

Dr. Stanley’s thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of a rustling satin skirt, coupled with soft laughter, that seem to be coming from the direction of shade trees several yards away. He takes a few surreptitious steps sideways and then towards the sounds. There, behind a tall oak tree, stand Harry and Silna, looking at one another as if time is standing still and the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Harry leans into Silna, who willingly complies, their mouths joining for a long, slow kiss. They pause briefly to smile at each other and exchange words that Dr. Stanley can’t hear. Silna laughs gently and then kisses her husband along his jawline and across both of his cheeks, before settling in to kiss him on the lips again.

The newlyweds look like they don’t plan on joining the party immediately, so Dr. Stanley quietly scurries back to find Des Voeux, who now stands at the edge of the crowd.

“Put your drink down, and come with me,” Dr. Stanley says.

“But I just now-“

“Bring it with you, then. You need to see this.”

“What-“

“Shhh. Come. Now.” 

Dr. Stanley leads the way, then stops a few yards short of the tree that Harry and Silna think is shielding them from view. He steps sideways, noting with interest that Harry has removed his gloves in the interim. He gestures to Des Voeux to step to one side, along with him, then holds a finger to his lips to signal that they should remain quiet. Tilting his head in the direction of the couple, he speaks in hushed tones so they can’t possibly hear him. “If you had any doubts about Mr. Goodsir’s motivations for this wedding, or about his tastes, this should change your mind. Apparently, it’s ‘ _later._ ’”

Harry and Silna are seen in full embrace, eyes closed, and engaged in a leisurely kiss.

"Well,” Des Voeux says with a shrug, “that only tells me that he likes men _and_ women.”

Dr. Stanley has nothing to say. He can only watch, enthralled, as the couple pause to speak to each other with their lips only inches apart, and then resume kissing. The romance of it all goes to his heart. It’s remarkable that this man who, in his presence, had proven over a period of four years to be flighty, nervously impulsive, and seemingly lacking in confidence, could now display such calm assurance and tenderness. That this girl has brought these qualities out in him confirms that they are well-matched. He brings a hand to his eyes and successfully stops errant tears from reaching his cheeks. 

“Dr. Stanley, are you crying?”

“I don’t know what manner of flora the Goodsirs are cultivating on the grounds, but my eyes seem to be watering.” 

Des Voeux crosses his arms and quirks one side of his mouth upward. “Flora. Right.” 

“Oh, all right. Yes, I’ve allowed myself a tear or two. Everyone deserves love and happiness. Even Mr. Goodsir.”

“If you say so.” Des Voeux glances back at the unsuspecting couple. “Christ, look at them now! Tongues!”

“Mr. Des Voeux, I think we should leave them,” Dr. Stanley says while remaining perfectly still, intrigued by the sight of the newlyweds enjoying themselves. 

The undetected voyeurs watch as Harry, still engaged in a passionate kiss, slides one hand upwards from Silna’s waist and along the front of her bodice to rest it directly on top of her bosom, at neckline level. What begins as a gentle caress quickly progresses to borderline fondling. 

“Shall we afford them their privacy?” Dr. Stanley suggests, retreating a few steps.

Des Voeux’s response is to stomp forward and make his presence known. “Mr. Goodsir, save that for the marriage bed!”

Harry practically jumps from the shock, pulling away from Silna to tug down at his vest. Silna smooths her neckline and turns her back to the intruders. 

“I-I'm sorry, I had assumed we were _alone_ ,” Harry stammers, fumbling to button his coat.

“Mistakenly,” Des Voeux says through a satisfied grin. “Did you forget that there’s a party going on for you back there?” he asks, gesturing towards the long tables. “Unless you were planning on having your own private party over here behind the trees?”

"No, of course not." Harry lowers straightened his arms in front of him, clasping his hands together in what appears to be an attempt at nonchalance. “You go on ahead, we’ll be there momentarily,” he says, nodding. “I would also ask for your discretion. Please.”

Des Voeux’s grin only widens. “I won’t tell anyone. Yeah, I reckon that’ll be my wedding gift to both of you. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Des Voeux. Doctor?”

“You needn’t worry, Mr. Goodsir.”

“Thank you. And thank you again for coming today.” 

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Dr. Stanley says. He pauses to prepare a more incisive tone. “Particularly because yours is the first wedding to which I’ve ever been invited.”

“How can that be?”

“You don’t remember, do you…”

“Remember what?”

From the look on Mr. Goodsir’s face, Dr. Stanley thinks it possible that he truly _doesn’t_ remember. “A conversation we once had? In which you asked me if anyone had ever invited me to a wedding?”

“I don’t recall. Did I really say that to you? And in what context?”

“No matter,” Dr. Stanley huffs. “Congratulations, Mr. Goodsir. You’re looking radiant today. As is your bride.”

“Thank you.” Harry clears his throat. “As I said before, we will be along momentarily.”

Dr. Stanley takes the hint. “Come, Mr. Des Voeux.” He turns on his heels and checks over his shoulder to make sure that his companion hasn’t remained behind. 

“He may need time to recover from having a stiffy,” Des Voeux says as they walk together toward the crowd.

“For my part, I hadn’t made it a point to notice,” Dr. Stanley says, stopping to look Des Voeux straight in the eyes. “Besides, I’m certain your unsolicited remark quickly ruined whatever evidence of arousal there might have been.” 

Des Voeux resumes walking. “Let’s go to the drinks table. I need another one after all that.”

A few minutes later the newlyweds appear, as promised. They walk arm in arm, Harry wearing his gloves again. The couple appear cheerful and relaxed, as if the shade tree encounter with Dr. Stanley and Mr. Des Voeux had never taken place. 

Captain Crozier leads the guests in applause. He goes to meet the couple, along with Dr. McDonald, and ushers them to the table for champagne. Dr. McDonald stays close by to assist with translations for Silna.

“Toasts," Des Voeux complains to his partner. "Will this morning never end?”

Captain Crozier offers the first toast to the couple, after which the men respond with a unison “Hear, hear!” He goes on to acknowledge again the presence of the Goodsir family, and to thank them for their hospitality. He can’t finish up without mentioning what a pleasure it is to see members of Terror and Erebus together again. He keeps his remarks short, saying that he’s doing so in order to lend more time to Harry’s father and older brother to make their toasts.

Both Goodsir men speak about letters they had each received from Harry during the expedition, in which there were mentions of Silna. The first letters simply told of the presence of a Netsilik girl on Erebus, known only as “Lady Silence,” and of what brought her there, and then went on to describe the particular challenges of the situation for her, him, and the other men on the ships. With subsequent letters, there were more mentions of the girl, referred to as Silna, complete with more stories and details about her, until both father and brother had deduced that the two were likely in love. Finally, Harry had written to both that he knew Silna was “the one,” announced that she was coming back to England with him, and that he would like to marry her. Unconventional, yes – but when they and the rest of the family met Silna, they knew instantly that Harry had chosen well.

It’s Harry’s turn to speak. He’s now practiced in speaking loudly enough so that everyone can hear, so he has no problem doing so now. “Firstly, I can’t thank you all enough for coming today. It means more to Silna and me than I could ever adequately express.”

“Then do stop trying,” Des Voeux quietly drones.

“I need to say a special Thank you to my parents and my family,” Harry says. He raises a glass to his brother. “To my brother, John: thank you for being my best man, and especially for keeping me calm before the ceremony.” He lowers his glass and looks at each family member in turns as he continues. “Thank you to my mother and father, my sister, and all my brothers. When I was growing up, my parents certainly didn’t envision this type of scenario for my wedding day. I know they never expected an unusual partnership. I confess that _I_ didn’t, either.” He glances at his wife and says the next sentence to her. “But, when love finds you, and you know in your heart that it’s right, there’s nothing unusual about it at all.” He raises his glass again and speaks to his parents and siblings. “I’d like to publicly thank all of you for accepting Silna into our family, and for…” He pauses, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens his eyes again, he chuckles and says, “If I’m not careful, I may need to bring out the handkerchief again.” He resumes, speaking directly to his family. “Silna and I thank you for giving us your blessings for our marriage.” 

“And where’s Sir John when you need him?” Des Voeux says to his partner. “I would have thought he’d start weeping again.” 

Harry continues, making eye contact with those he mentions. “A special thank you to Captain Crozier for officiating today, and to Dr. McDonald for his help in translating. You’ve both helped to make this ceremony go smoothly, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Thank you to Lieutenant Gore and Mr. Jopson for doing such a wonderful job of ushering. We appreciate your having arrived early to seat this large number of guests.

“Thank you, Mr. Bridgens, for your beautiful reading of the Shakespeare sonnet, and thank you, Commander Fitzjames, for reading your poem. Commander, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying full and proper attention throughout, as I was otherwise occupied – but I do look forward to reading the entire poem, which I understand you’ve hand copied and framed for us. Thank you.” 

“We can only hope that it gets hung in a prominent place in a cellar,” Dr. Stanley says in a deadpan voice. 

“I’d also like to thank our musicians,” Harry continues. “To our lovely string quartet, who have been playing Schubert before and during the ceremony, and who have been playing more Schubert during this reception here on the grounds: Thank you for your hard work, and for providing such beautiful music.”

Harry turns to Silna. “And, of course, I would-”

Captain Crozier clears his throat and sidles up to Harry, delivering words that no one can hear except the newlyweds and himself.

“Oh, yes! My apologies, Lieutenant Hodgson, I didn’t mean to forget you! Thank you for the gift of your lovely piano music." 

He turns to Silna. “And, of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my beautiful bride, my _wife,_ Silna. Obviously, this day wouldn’t have been possible without her.

“Silna, thank you.” He lets out the happiest of sighs. “You look so beautiful today, with your hair up, and in your lovely dress.” He glances back and forth between the crowd and his wife. “Honestly, I think she finally consented to a corseted dress when I gave her my best assurance that she wouldn’t be wearing it for very long.” 

A low whistle comes from the front of the crowd, followed by laughter and whooping; all of the sounds coming from the ships’ boys, who are stationed in front of the table, facing the newlyweds. 

“Youth,” Stanley says, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Harry has gone into full blush. “No, no! You all know I didn’t mean it like _that!_ Dr. McDonald, do _not_ try to explain it for her. Silna, you know the words I said, but-”

Mr. Blanky steps forward, reacting with his distinctive raucous laugh, causing many others nearby to chuckle.

“Don’t _you_ say anything either,” Harry says. “I-I’ll take care of this.”

Silna seems entirely confused by the reactions of the guests and by her husband’s flustered state. Harry leans into her and whispers, presumably to offer an explanation – and likely an apology, too – for the unfortunate wording of his sentence.

Des Voeux turns to Dr. Stanley and snickers. “Based on what we saw not long ago, I’d say he meant it exactly as we all heard it. Look at him. How red in the face can the man get? And we did catch them in the act.”

Dr. Stanley sighs. “Mr. Des Voeux, they were not ‘in the act.’”

“But they might well be having congress behind the trees right now if we hadn’t stopped them.” 

“ _You_ stopped them. _We_ did not. Remember, I had advised that we withdraw.” 

Apparently, Harry has done a good job of explaining to Silna what has just happened. She shoots a look of disdain at the ships’ boys, who don’t show any remorse, then looks at her husband and slowly shakes her head. She’s smiling at him and patting his arm, but it’s likely she won’t be letting him forget his mistake anytime soon. 

Harry shrugs and offers a sheepish smile to his wife. Dr. Stanley is not a practiced lip-reader, but it’s obvious that Harry is saying _I’m sorry_ to her – several times – before he turns back to the assembled guests. “Incidentally, you might all be interested to know that in exchange for her consenting to wear a corseted dress, Silna asked that I become clean-shaven today – in case any of you may have been wondering. Frankly, she’s never cared for the mutton chops, as I came to find out only a few weeks ago.”

“Smart,” Des Voeux whispers to Dr. Stanley. “He won’t want to be scratching up the lady bits when he goes south later.”

“Good God…” Dr. Stanley shudders. “Thank you so much for putting that image into my mind.”

With toasts completed, Harry announces that the dinner will take place at the hotel in two hours. He invites the guests to feel free to remain as long as they’d like to socialize, or to venture to the hotel, or to otherwise occupy their time before dinner begins.

“You know,” Des Voeux says to his partner, “I originally wasn’t planning on attending the dinner – but I’ve changed my mind. This day has become far more entertaining than I had expected.”

“I’ll go, as well.”

“Let’s find a pub and knock down a few before we go to the hotel. We have two hours.”

“As you wish. We’ll get a hansom cab. Come.”

Des Voeux sets his drink down on the table and joins Dr. Stanley. They walk together and exit the grounds. “We’ll need to make another wager, I think,” Des Voeux says.

“I assume you already have one in mind?”

“Once dinner begins, how long will it be before Lieutenant Irving gets so drunk that he decides he needs to stand up and sing for us?”

“I think _you’re_ the one who’s well on the way to getting drunk.”

“But I don’t sing,” Des Voeux says. “All I know is if I hear _‘The Vallies of Devon’_ from him one more time, I just might scream.”

“There’s always ‘ _The Beautiful Banks of the Tweed_.’”

“Even worse. Or we might have to suffer through _'Hampstead is the Place to Ruralize.’_ Again.”

“Well, he did win the singing contest at Carnivale with that one,” Dr. Stanley says.

“Only because Jacko didn’t enter. Two-part wager, then: How long before Lieutenant Irving sings, and _what_ will he sing?”

“Only forty-five minutes into the proceedings, he’ll be singing the Hampstead song.”

“Naturally. Because he knows we’re _all_ tired of hearing him sing it.”

Dr. Stanley offers a sly smile. An idea is brewing; he craves payback for Des Voeux’s having embarrassed him in front of Mr. Goodsir. “Then we’ll just have to sing it along with him,” he says.

“God, I hate that song. And I just told you, I don’t sing.”

Dr. Stanley further teases and torments his companion. “I rather like it,” he says. He starts in, singing softly: _“Oh! Hampstead is the place to ruralize, ri-ti-turalize, extramuralize-”_

“Stop! My ears!”

Dr. Stanley continues singing, louder with each line, and finishes the verse. “Ah, our chariot arrives!”

The pair get into the cab, with Des Voeux telling the driver to take them to the nearest pub.

“Right,” says Dr. Stanley as he settles in. “Did you know the song has seven verses? I’ll teach all of them to you, so we’ll both be prepared. We have two hours, Mr. Des Voeux!”

“Noooo…“

While Dr. Stanley has no intention of making Des Voeux suffer through two hours of learning a song he detests, nor to sing along when it comes time for Lieutenant Irving to sing, it will be great fun – at least for the duration of the cab ride – to make Des Voeux think that’s what will happen. 

“And now, Verse Two!” Dr. Stanley gleefully sings on, knowing that Des Voeux’s wails of protest can be heard even above his singing, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, and the whirring of carriage wheels. _“I joined a party of thirty-eight or more covered vans and four, case the rain should pour, with hampers of nice cold meat a-store for a peckish day…“_

**Author's Note:**

> I love Mr. and Mrs. Harry Goodsir! 🧡


End file.
